Sonnet 93

Critics will judge these words in times to come,
With bitter tongues, maligning my poor art;
Though strident voices may yet wear me numb
They cannot dull the pride within my heart;
Pride for the love I’ve ever held for you;
Pride for your loyalty, which honors me;
Pride for the iron faith that saw us through
The very worst of fate’s adversity.
Yes critics do their part, as critics must;
As jealousy shall shadow joyous gain;
It’s in dear love that we shall place our trust;
True love as one, shall never thus be twain.
Disparage then these words with all their might;
Even in mean verse, true love will yet shine bright!